


All Signs Point to Yes

by all_new_wolverine



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bucky is angsty but also has tools and coping skills!, Coming In Pants, First Time, Living Together, Love Confessions, M/M, Misunderstandings, Steve is a good bean, neck kisses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-10-25 19:30:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20729567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/all_new_wolverine/pseuds/all_new_wolverine
Summary: Steve was sitting cross-legged on the other of the door, looking the most vulnerable Bucky had ever seen him-- and that included the times he’d seen him beaten black and blue. Their gazes met and held for a few moments. Bucky reached out a hand toward him, and Steve scooted closer so he could take it. Finally Bucky asked, “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”Steve smiled, leaned down and kissed his hand. Then he stood up and walked to the kitchen, rummaging around in the fridge for something. He came back with an ice pack and paper towel. “I could be wrong but it seems like you’re still close to panicking. Would this help?”--Or, when Steve confesses his feelings, Bucky thinks he's pretending in order to be a supportive friend and freaks out. Thankfully, Bucky (and Steve by proxy) learned a lot from his time in Wakanda. They strive to be vulnerable and open with each other, while also providing each other and themselves what they both need to feel comfortable and safe-- during conversation and making out.





	All Signs Point to Yes

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first published fic! I hope you enjoy!

“Hey Buck,” Steve said as he opened the door, balancing multiple grocery bags in his other arm. 

Bucky looked up at him from the couch, blinking. “Hey yourself.” 

This had become their customary greeting when one or the other returned home. Of course, Bucky’s place wasn’t officially Steve’s home, but it may as well have been, for all the nights that he stayed on the couch. Steve had a burgeoning collection of his own items here: several of his books and newspapers were spread around various surfaces, his favorite coffee in the cupboard. Two weeks after Bucky had moved in after returning from Wakanda, he bought a small set of plastic drawers that he placed by the couch. When Steve had come home that night to find his clothes and toothbrush stored safely inside, instead of in the brown grocery bag he’d been using, he just smiled at Bucky, and plopped down on the couch next to him to watch a movie. 

Besides Steve once asking if Bucky was okay with him staying over so often, and Bucky replied with “duh” and an eyeroll, they hadn’t talked much about their situation. It was so frustratingly close to the domestic relationship that Bucky wanted so badly, it was becoming increasingly difficult to keep his feelings for Steve in check. While he was in Wakanda and in intensive therapy, he had had so little room to think about Steve. His feelings for the man came up once or twice in his sessions, but his therapist and other practitioners seemed to realize that he didn’t have room to sort through that with everything else he already had on his plate. 

Lately, though, he wished he’d about it more with his therapist. He was so very lost, and although everything he’d learned from therapy helped, he still had no idea what to do. He couldn’t tell whether Steve was pining for him too, and he couldn’t risk losing his best friend, his everything, over stupid awkwardness and unrequited feelings. Bucky’s love for Steve went beyond the need for a sexual or romantic relationship-- he just needed Steve in his life, no matter what their relationship looked like. No one cared about or for him like Steve did, made him feel as safe as Steve did, would go to the ends of the Earth and break a million international laws for him like Steve did. Maybe eventually he’d have a bigger support system in place so he could risk exposing his feelings and facing rejection, but right now? He couldn’t face losing that friendship, and these small little rituals that made him feel so safe.

Now, though, something was off about their customary greeting. Instead of closing the door carefully behind him, as Steve normally did, knowing loud noises still grated on Bucky’s nervous system, Steve stayed in the doorway and just stared at him. 

Bucky ignored it for a few moments, flipping through the rest of his Bitch magazine, trying to play it cool, pretending that his heart hadn’t already kicked up a few notches under Steve’s gaze. But soon he couldn’t take it any longer. He looked up at the man. “Steve?”

“Buck.” 

“Do you… need help?”

Steve looked around at his groceries like he’d forgotten he was holding them. “Oh! No, no. I’ve got them. I’m good. Thanks, though.” He moved to the kitchen and started putting away the groceries, much more clumsily than usual. Bucky couldn’t see him, but he heard muttered “family friendly” curse words and thuds of various food items hitting the ground. Eventually they were all packed away and Steve came into the living room from the kitchen and sat on the other end of the couch, on foot propped on his other knee. Bucky folded the magazine on his lap. 

“Long day?”

“Uh, yeah, a bit. Listen. Do you have time to talk? Now or later?” 

Of course he had time to talk. Besides tending to his pollinator-friendly garden and feeding his goats, Bucky had no other commitments. “Of course.” 

“Later?” 

“Now works.” 

“Oh, great. Okay.” Steve fidgeted with the edge of the couch arm, his foot bouncing up and down. “Well, listen. I’ve been thinking. About what I want.” 

Bucky’s heart rate kicked up. This was it. He was going to tell Bucky that he had to move out. He’d gotten sick of spending so much time together, or he’d finally realized it was weird that they spent so much time together. He fiddled unconsciously with the corner of Bitch. One of his teachings popped into his head: you’re telling yourself a story about what’s happening. It might not be true. Still, all the stories he’d checked before were hard but not as terrifying as this. He couldn’t bring himself to say “the story I’m telling myself about what’s happening is…” as that would reveal how much this meant to him.

“You wanna move out?” he forced out instead, trying to keep his tone casual.

Steve blinked. “What? No, I.” His brow furrowed, and he looked at Bucky. “Do you want me to move out?” 

Bucky shrugged. “I mean, it’s a little weird having someone in my living room all the time.” He almost winced as he said it, knowing how much of a bitch move it was. But he wouldn’t-- couldn’t have Steve hurt him about this first. 

Steve sucked in a breath. “You could have told me that.” 

Bucky looked up at him, eyebrow raised. “Yeah, like you would have taken that well?” 

“I…” 

“Exactly.” Bucky picked up his magazine again and pretended to start reading again. Several moments passed. Bucky tried to keep his walls up, but the open presence of Steve made it impossible. After a few moments, he put the magazine down. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Steve looked up at him from the corner of the couch, hurt written plain across his face. “If you didn’t want me here, you really could have just…”

“No, no. I love having you here. I… I think that’s what made me say that.” He took a moment, processing what he wanted to share. “I am kinda scared of you moving out, but--” he rushed the last as Steve opened his mouth “-- you don’t owe it to me to stay here. I’ll be fine.” 

“I know I don’t. That’s not why. I mean. That’s not even really what I want to ask. Kind of the opposite, in fact.” He took a deep breath. “What I want to ask is, do you like having me here?” 

And there was that vulnerability, that openness of Steve. He was trying to be open here, about something. Bucky wanted to reach for that courage as well. “Yes. Of course I do.” 

Steve held his gaze for awhile, then broke it and cleared his throat. “Would you like me to be here… more often?” 

Silence stretched between them. Bucky tried to read the unspoken message behind the words. Steve was already here most of the time, so it wasn’t like it’d be that different or noticeable having him here even more often. But for some reason his heart was beating faster. There was a tension, an intensity in Steve he hadn’t seen before. “I mean you’re here most nights anyway. It wouldn’t really be any different having you here more.”

Steve dropped his head, huffing out a laugh. Suddenly it clicked what he was actually asking. “Oh! God I’m an idiot. You want to actually move in? That’d be just fine. We have that room we could make into another bedroom, most of your essential stuff is already here, it’d--”

A firm hand on his knee cut him off. Bucky looked up and his mouth dried out, words dying on his tongue. The openness and rawness of Steve’s face crushed something inside of him. 

“I’m sorry,” Steve said. “I wasn’t clear. I mean, yes, I would love to actually move in, but that was a cop out of what I actually wanted to ask. Which is because I’m terrified of what I’m about to say. But uh-- here goes.” He took a deep breath. “Bucky? I’m trying to ask if you would like to be in some kind of a relationship with me.”

Bucky’s brain glazed over. Surely, Steve couldn’t have asked what he thought he just asked. “What?”

Steve breathed in and Bucky noticed how much he was trembling. “I… am in love with you, Buck. And I would love to be in some kind of sexual or romantic relationship-- I don’t know exactly what you’re comfortable with, and of course if you’re not interested that’s completely fine, I just. I don’t know, I guess today just seemed like the time to tell you.”

Bucky’s brain spun. Was this possible? No. Steve couldn’t love him. He loved Peggy, he was hung up on Peggy still. This wasn’t possible. And then, with a twist in his gut, it hit him-- someone had told Steve how Bucky felt. And now Steve was trying to be supportive by pretending to feel the same way. 

“Steve,” Bucky breathed, trying to keep his voice steady through the embarrassment. “I don’t know who told you, but you don’t-- you don’t have to do this for me. I… I’m fine being friends, I don’t need to you to sacrifice your own comfort to try and make me feel better.”

Confusion took over Steve’s face. “What? I’m not sacrificing anything, Buck. I mean…” he laughed, like he didn’t know what else to do. “And wait. You don’t know who told me what?” 

“That I’m in love with you.” The words were out before he could stop them. His stomach churned. Steve’s face changed in an instant, confusion turning to shock and bewilderment.

“Wait so… you do love me?” 

“Yes and I’m sorry. I didn’t want to tell you because I know you don’t feel the same way and I didn’t want to lose what we have now. You’re too important to me. I wish whoever told you hadn’t-- God, I can’t believe--” he could feel panic and nausea starting in him. He needed to be clear and level headed when having this conversation. He couldn’t risk saying something he didn’t mean that ruined everything. “I’m sorry. I have to-- I have to take a moment.” 

He got up from the couch and went to his room, closing the door behind. He slid down against it, staring blankly at the wall, breathing through his mouth. What the fuck? 

Minutes passed and he could barely calm himself down. He just kept picturing Steve sitting there, waiting for him to come back, to explain himself. He practiced the breathing methods his breathwork teacher in Wakanda has taught him. 

There was a soft knock at the door. “You don’t have to let me in. I just want you to know I’m here.” Steve’s voice was quiet from the other side. 

Bucky sat still for a moment, feeling his body relax, just knowing Steve was still here, knowing that he wasn’t abandoning him yet. Slowly, he raised his hand and knocked back. A slow, relieved breath came from the other side.

“Do you remember the time you stayed at your mom’s house for a week to take care of her, and I thought you were at some girl’s house?” 

Bucky smirked, remembering how pissed Steve had been, and how confused he had been about Steve’s reaction. He hadn’t told Steve what he was doing because he didn’t want him to feel like he was obligated to help too. But he hadn’t expected Steve’s cold shoulder, or the way Steve had hugged him after finding out about his mom. It was one of the first times he realized how much Steve’s support and approval meant to him.

“That was the first time I had ever felt truly jealous of someone. I knew you’d gone on dates, and I could manage that, but the idea of you sleeping next to someone else, night after night? I couldn’t handle it.” There was a pause. “Our bed had never felt so empty. I slept on the couch most nights, even though it was freezing, because I couldn’t stand to be in that bed without you. I knew I was in trouble then, but I could ignore what I was feeling for you as long as you were in my life.

“I realized I was impossibly in love with you when you went to war. I cried almost non-stop and nothing could make me feel better.” Steve sighed. “You don’t need to talk, Buck. I just wanted you to hear what I have to say. I… think you misinterpreted what I said earlier. No one told me how you felt. I was actually worried you didn’t feel the same way.”

Bucky felt like crying. Was this possible? That Steve, the most important person in his life, felt the same way as he did? He took a few breaths before turning around and pushing open the door. 

Steve was sitting cross-legged on the other side of it, looking the most vulnerable Bucky had ever seen him-- and that included the times he’d seen him beaten black and blue. Their gazes met and held for a few moments. Bucky reached out a hand toward him, and Steve scooted closer so he could take it. Finally Bucky asked, “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

Steve smiled, leaned down and kissed his hand. Then he stood up and walked to the kitchen, rummaging around in the fridge for something. He came back with an ice pack and paper towel. “I could be wrong but it seems like you’re still close to panicking. Would this help?” 

Several weeks ago, Bucky had taught him one of his favorite methods of calming the panic in his body-- holding something cold to his nose while breathing in deeply and holding his breath for 20 seconds. Bucky took the offered ice pack and gave Steve a half smile, trying not to start crying. 

He put the pack to his nose. As he went through the breathing, he took stock of himself. Suddenly, he realized the twist in his stomach also popped up when he was in a place of deep self-deprecation and loathing. Holding his breath, he repeated to himself: You are worthy of love. You are worthy of safety. You get to have good things. You are not here to suffer.

As he pulled down the ice pack and let out his breath, the enormity of what the two of them had shared hit him. Instead of feeling terrified, though he felt… strong. Amazed. And prepared.

For a second Bucky and Steve just looked at each other, catching each other’s eyes and taking in each other’s faces. Finally, Steve spoke. “Feeling better?” 

Bucky grinned and shook his head. “Yeah. Thanks for that.” He lifted the ice pack. 

“No problem. I tried it myself a few times since you showed me. It works wonders.” 

Bucky looked back up at Steve and met his eyes. “Yeah, it really does.” 

For a moment, neither of them moved. Then, Steve leaned forward and kissed him.

Bucky didn’t move. He was determined not to stop the impossible thing that was happening, and to catalog every moment of it before it stopped. Steve’s mouth was so gentle against his, treating him like a precious treasure. Then his entire body relaxed of its own accord, and he sunk forward into the kiss, accidentally pushing Steve back a bit, eliciting a quiet noise of surprise. Bucky huffed a laugh at the noise, eliciting a smile out of Steve, and soon they couldn’t kiss they were grinning so hard. Steve’s forehead against his, they leaned their heads together, both smiling like idiots.

Just talking to Steve had been wonderful and safe but this-- this was like stepping into a warm bath after days of tension. Like the moments he’d been reaching mid-meditation more and more frequently when everything was just peaceful and calm and good. This was utterly safe and incredible. 

“Holy shit,” he said, winding his hands around Steve’s waist. “Is this actually happening?” 

Steve chuckled into his hair. “All signs point to yes.”

“I’m… so happy,” he whispered, kneading his fingers into Steve’s back.

“Me too,” Steve whispered back, leaning down to kiss Bucky’s nose. “Me too.” 

They kissed again, Steve bringing his hand up to Bucky’s face, cupping his cheek in his palm. 

Steve’s lips were soft and gentle, but full of an insistence that Bucky met. When Steve teased his lips with his tongue, Bucky gratefully opened his mouth, keening at the contact between their tongues. Bucky slid his into Steve’s open mouth, causing him to moan, Bucky’s fingers tightening around Steve’s shoulders at the sound. That was when he realized the other man was shaking. He pulled back. 

Steve’s half-lidded eyes made Bucky want to dive right back into the kiss, but he knew he couldn’t yet. 

“You’re… trembling,” Bucky said, smoothing his hands up and down his arms. “Are you okay? Is this okay?” 

“So much more than okay, Buck.” Steve took a long breath through his nose. “The shaking will stop soon, I promise. I don’t even know why it’s happening.” 

“No, no.” Bucky placed two fingers on the side of his chin. “It’s important to let your body shake if it wants to. At least that’s what Shuri tells me.” 

“Really? Why?” 

“Apparently it helps you self-regulate. Shaking usually comes after a scary or overwhelming incident. It lets your body know you’re safe and releases tension.” 

Steve huffed out a laugh, ducking his head. “I guess that makes sense. This is pretty fucking overwhelming. In the best way possible!” He hurriedly added.

Bucky quirked an eyebrow, smirking. “Language.” He got a chagrined smile for that. “But…what makes it overwhelming?” 

Steve quirked a disbelieving eyebrow. “You saying you’re not overwhelmed?” 

“Definitely not saying that,” he said, with another pass of his hands over Steve’s arms.

Rubbing a hand behind his neck, Steve sighed. “Well. I just never felt like this would happen. I… couldn’t share what I felt before the war. I didn’t have the words. Then I lost you.” He stops for a moment, brow furrowed, as if reliving the moment Bucky plummeted from the train. Bucky wanted to shake him out of that memory, but he knew this was something Steve needed to process through. “Then you came back, but.” He shook his head. “I just never thought we would get here. And now we are and it’s…” He raised his head to look Bucky in the eye. “It’s miraculous. It feels like a goddamn miracle, Buck.”

Bucky’s throat tightened, tears suddenly threatening his eyes. “I know,” he choked out. “This feels like absolutely everything, to me, too.” He breathed deeply, trying to keep himself in the moment. He sighed, leaning into the other man, taking a moment to just breathe and be. 

After several moments, he experimentally trailed his fingers up Steve’s spine to the back of his neck, playing with the fine hair there. He studied Steve’s face for a few moments, eyes closed and head tilted forward. Then he leaned in, experimentally kissing Steve’s neck. Steve inhaled sharply. “Buck…” 

And that, the way he said his name, after so many years of wanting to hear that, dreaming of hearing that, activated a whole other part of Bucky. He placed a sloppy kiss on his neck and sucked gently, eliciting a noise he’d never heard Steve make before. He didn’t know what he was doing, had never been with a man before and barely with women... and it had been so long since that one fumbling experience. But he knew Steve and he knew how to read his sighs and moans. And the ones he didn’t, he learned. 

Trailing his fingers down to Steve’s hips, Bucky pulled himself up onto his lap, straddling him. Steve backed into the hallway wall. Bucky’s hands dug into his skin as his breath grew heavier. Steve shifted underneath him slightly, bringing their dicks into unexpected contact. Bucky moaned, leaning forward onto Steve’s body, where the other man’s arms encircled him. “Is this… is this okay?” he gasped. 

“Yeah. Yes,” Steve said. Bucky rocked his hips experimentally, earning him a “God, Buck, yes.” 

“Fuck, Stevie,” Bucky said, grinding his hips down, barely biting back his own moan. “Love hearing you make those noises.” 

Steve cracked an eye open, a sly grin appearing on his face. “What about you, Buck? What kinda noises you gonna make for me?” He thrust his hips up and Bucky collapsed forward onto him again. _ Ohhh god. _

“Yeah, that’s right baby. Let me hear you. Please let me hear you,” Steve said.

Bucky hadn’t realized he’d moaned that out loud but he couldn’t bring himself to be embarrassed. Instead, he leaned into it, not resisting one iota as Steve lifted him by the hips and turned them around on the floor, so that Steve was on top and Bucky’s back pressing into the wall.

“Bucky…” Steve breathed, kissing a trail down his neck, then back up and nibbling at his ear. He was making embarrassing little half-broken noises, and when Steve nibbled his way up to the top of his ear, his own heavy breathing in Bucky’s ear, Bucky outright moaned. 

Steve kept rocking them together, a steady pattern that Bucky thrust up into, wanting, needing more, the pressure building. Steve rocked back into his movements, meeting his pace. His pornographic moan of “oh yeah, Bucky,” straight into his ear, set Bucky off, and he came, still in his pants, keening and whimpering into the arms of his lover. 

“Fuck, Bucky,” Steve thrust once, twice more, and collapsed on Bucky’s body, mouth in a silent O as he rode the waves of pleasure. 

The two men breathed together, both of their hearts slowing, as they regained present moment awareness. 

“Holy shit,” Steve breathed, slumping against the wall next to Bucky. “That… you….. wow.” 

Bucky chuckled, and the way it shook his body felt so good. “I… yeah. Wow.” 

They sat there for several minutes, just breathing in each other, until Steve stood up shakily, extending his hand toward Bucky and motioning with his head toward the bathroom. They cleaned up together, a little awkward since they weren’t totally sure whether they could take off their clothes in front of each other yet or not. 

After, Bucky lead Steve to his bed, where he held the other man as closely as he’d always wanted to, tracing small circles on his back. 

“So,” he said. Steve made a soft “hmm” noise. “How fast do you think Tony can make a matching dresser?” 

Steve looked up at him, a smile in his eyes. “I’m thinking it can go over there,” Bucky continued, lifting one arm to indicate the wall space two feet away from his own dresser. “But of course, we have to make room for the two of us being giant idiots.” Steve laughed and the feeling of his chest shaking while he laid Bucky’s own chest was one of the best feelings he’d ever experienced. He vowed then and there to make the man laugh while Bucky was holding him at least once every day for as long as Bucky lived.


End file.
